Violent Heart

Chapter Three

        Violet grunted feeling the pounding in her head intensify; the hard bedding wasn’t helping either, she shifted in irritation. The ground rattled beneath a drowsy Violet, rocking her up and down, slowly pulling her back to sleep. She drew her brows together in confusion, processing the strangeness of situation. ‘Where am I? And who is that rocking me?’

        “Miss? You feelin’ alrigh’?” the voice of a boy sounded.

        Violet shot up, regretting her decision almost instantly, wooziness taking over. She groaned at the sharp stabbing sensation emanating from the back of her head. A pair of small hands steadied her by the shoulders, pushing her to lean up against the wall.

        “Easy there.”

        Violet relaxed her scrunched eyes, opening them to reveal a scrawny youth. Grey eyes watched her inquisitively, strands of auburn hair hanging over them.

        “Who are you?” She asked him, slowly recalling the events that led her to the caged wagon. 

        “A prisoner… jus’ like you.” He didn’t look away, fidgeting with the sleeves of his patchy coat. The boy was cuffed as well, but it didn’t seem to bother him much.

        “Name’s Arthur, Arthur Leventhorpe.” He said sticking out one of his hands, “an’ who might you be?”

        Violet hesitated, shifting against the wall, before she slowly brought her right hand forward as well. “Violet, Violet He-” She stopped herself, cursing internally at her recklessness. Clearing her throat, she grasped his hand, and muttered, “Violet Sears.”

        Arthur nodded, rubbing his nose in thought, “right, well that there’s Catherine Fogg, she was brought from Lochton.” He said pointing to the small child curled up in a corner beside them. She raised her head in acknowledgement, a look of deep melancholy on her face.

        “Aww, don’ look so blue Cat, we’ll get out of here, you’ll see.” She nodded miserably, golden curls bouncing, before resting her head on her knees once more.

        Violet’s heart sank in her chest, the child looked no more than six years of age; too young to be without hope. Arthur too, she surveyed the boy. He looked like he’d been there the longest, with his dirty garments, and calm demeanor. Had they been feeding the poor boy?

        “How long have I been asleep for?” She asked, rubbing the back of her head, she winced, having located the swollen bump.

        “Few hours, thought you wouldn’t wake up… you took a really hard blow to the 'ead.”

        Violet nodded in agreement, carefully standing up, she crouched, painfully aware of the low ceiling. Her scalp definitely didn’t need any more abuse…

        “Do you know where they’re taking us?” She limped to the bars, gripping them.

        “Where else but Swynford.” Arthur came to sit near her, watching the surrounding trees pass by. “I’ve been with ‘em for a good two weeks now, moved from Belnesse to Corbourne, Corbourne to Lochton, and now Orkeep. Old Swynford’s definitely our last stop, it is the center of slave trade after all…”

        “Slaves,” Violet tested the word, “Is that what we are now? Don’t they need some sort of proof? Documentation of the transferal of ownership?” The subject of slavery has always been a sensitive topic, with the majority of the kingdom frowning upon the matter.